


Breathing Even

by miera



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-18
Updated: 2008-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-17 16:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's beginning to breathe again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing Even

Dr. Heightmeyer had a long explanation for it using lots of complicated Earth words, but Ronon thought of it like breathing even. It had taken a lot of days after he decided to remain in Atlantis for the itch, the need to leave to fade, even a little. Too many years of fearing to stray too close for too long made him tighten over and over as the days wore by until it started happening less and less. The conviction that he was endangering them just by being there went down into his gut after all this time and took a while to uncoil.

He was starting to breathe in Atlantis.

Not that Atlantis wasn't dangerous, but _he_ wasn't dangerous to them.

At least not unintentionally.

This particular mission, at least, seemed to be going fairly well. The food was good, the fire was warm, and while he never lost track of the team or their surroundings, they'd been on the planet for most of the day and nobody had threatened anyone so far.

When Sheppard pointed out things were peaceful earlier, Dr. Weir had replied that the party that night could be far more dangerous than a whole day of meetings. Ronon hadn't really agreed with that, but it wasn't his place to say so. When she emerges with Teyla from the building where a bunch of the women had disappeared, Ronon suddenly understands what she means.

As a gesture of good will, Weir and Teyla had agreed to join in some sort of ceremony with the other women, requiring them to change out of their regular clothes. They came back out in loose robes that hung down to their knees, and their faces were veiled.

The ceremony involves some chanting and dancing around, as ceremonies always seem to. He can't take his eyes off Weir. It's stupid. He knows what her face looks like. The veil isn't hiding anything from him that he doesn't already know.

But something about the veil and the bulky robe strikes him hard, igniting a fire in his belly that startles him.

He can't stop the image of lifting the veil from her face and reaching for her lips from seizing his mind. The artificial line across her cheeks just calls more attention to the shape of her features and her eyes, making them loom even larger in the dark.

The robe does the same thing. Instead of simply seeing her body in the usual form-fitting uniforms of the expedition and not thinking further about it, it's obscured and hidden. As she bends and twirls with the other women he gets teasing hints of the curves underneath.

His mind swiftly brings back what he knows about her shape and fits it with the mental image of lifting the robe up to bare her body in the dim light.

He's seducing her, releasing her – not just from the veil and the robe or even from her body but from the restraint she always lives under – in his mind within a few heartbeats. He's cupping her breasts in his hands, teasing her with his thumbs while she arches. He's licking the sweetness between her thighs. Watching as she rides him with her head thrown back while his fingers work her body to the peak above him.

She's shouting _his_ name to the sky and looking at him from huge green eyes over her veil.

"Ronon?"

Elizabeth is standing before him, looking down at him worriedly. The ceremonial dance is over and he's staring at her distractedly. He hasn't lost focus on his surroundings like that in so long it shocks him almost as much as the deep rush of lust that's welled up inside him.

On reflex, he manages to speak, but the words are completely unplanned. "I like the veil."

Her eyebrows shoot up but she blushes at the same time, and he wonders if she flushes that pink color when she comes. But nothing throws her off-stride for long. Not even him. And he realizes even though it wasn't intentional, he's been trying to do just that for a while now.

She shrugs. "Not my usual look, but as long as there are no harem pants..."

Teyla of course asks what that means and Elizabeth and Sheppard start explaining. Obeying an ingrained impulse, Ronon nods towards the trees and gets up, leaving the light and the chatter behind for a few minutes.

He draws in a deep breath of the chilly night air after he's done. Breathing even, he reminds himself. He hasn't been able to breathe freely for a long time. Never got a chance when he was running.

Never got to breathe. Never got to rest. Never got to mourn.

But the guilt doesn't come like it has before, whenever some woman caught his attention for a brief moment before he was leaving again. Those moments were stolen, though, based on physical need – one that had been painfully denied for a long damn time - more than anything else.

This was... he didn't know what this was. He didn't have this reaction to Dr. Weir when he got to Atlantis. Not that he was aware of. But then, fighting back the urge to run again had been taking up most of his attention during those days.

But he liked her. Trusted her enough, along with his gratitude towards Teyla and Beckett and Sheppard, to stay. He'd enjoyed being able to fluster her when nobody else in the city could manage it. It was like the first steps to a dance, one he hadn't been free to do for years, give and take, testing each other's wills and responses. Tonight had pushed that revolving motion up another level, showed him where the dance could end, if he wanted it.

Part of him recoiled. It had been too long. He didn't know how to do this, wasn't sure if he wanted to take that risk. It would be too easy to shatter everything again and - he could finally admit it to himself if nobody else - he was _tired_.

He leaned back against the tree trunk, looking up at the stars. Another part of him, smaller, less sure, but surprisingly intense, was awake and hungry again.

He heard movement coming towards him and a veiled woman stepped into view. For a moment he thought it was Elizabeth, and his mouth watered even as he tensed with nerves, not entirely sure if he would push this new boundary with her again or pull back and hide. But a second glance told him she was too short to be Elizabeth.

It was better this way, he told the disappointed part of himself. Being alone with her right now could be dangerous, for a lot of reasons. He needed to think, needed _time_ and the familiar panic hit him before he remembered that time was no longer an impossible luxury.

Teyla raised her eyebrows. "Are you all right?"

He nodded and shrugged at the same time. With Teyla there were blissfully few moments when he had to explain his motives. She merely looked at him for a moment before turning gracefully back towards the village. "Elizabeth was concerned when you disappeared."

Ronon looked towards the lights visible through the trees. Took a deep breath. And followed her back.


End file.
